


Taunted by the Shadows of Your Life

by Python07



Series: Bring Me to Life [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Flashbacks, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Past Character Death, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-30 22:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10174037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Python07/pseuds/Python07
Summary: Louis' reaction to Treville turning Richelieu and Aramis continues to brood.





	1. “Thank God, you’ll never leave me.”

The way the light filtered through the canopy of leaves made him giggle. Birdsong filled the air. The light breeze helped but he was still hot in his hunting leathers.

He was so busy looking up that he didn’t notice the thick tree root. He would’ve sprawled on his face except for the strong arms that circled him. He squealed in delight when he was lifted in the air and swung around.

Father put him down and knelt in front of him to look him in the eye. Father tapped the side of his head. “You must pay more attention to your surroundings, Louis.”

Louis grinned, showing off his missing teeth. “Yes, Father,” he piped up.

Father chuckled and shook his head. He straightened up and held his hand out. “Come. We’ll get that stag yet, but we must be quiet.”

Louis’ head bobbed up and down solemnly. He took Father’s hand and pressed close to Father’s side. He stepped gingerly and bit his lip to keep from chattering.

Father pointed at the crushed leaves and branches. He kept his voice low. “See, he came through this way.”

Louis really didn’t see. It was just more leaves and branches to him. He nodded anyway to please Father.

Father led Louis deeper into the forest. He suddenly knelt behind a tree. He nodded towards the deer grazing in a small clearing.

Louis gasped in delight. He wanted to run to the deer and pet it. He wondered what those impressive antlers felt like.

Father stilled him with a gentle hand on his elbow. Then he held a small bow in front of Louis. 

Louis leaned back into Father’s arms. The embrace was warm. He inhaled Father’s cologne.

Father wrapped Louis’ hand around the bow and pressed an arrow into his other. “We want to hit him center mass. We want a kill shot so the beast doesn’t suffer,” he whispered in Louis’ ear.

Louis hung his head. His voice was barely audible. “I don’t want to hurt him, Father.” He sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

Father turned Louis to face him. He smiled and rubbed Louis’ arms. “It’s okay. Maybe next time.”

Louis sniffed again. “You’re not angry?”

Father kissed Louis’ forehead. “Not in the least. You have plenty of time to learn to hunt. Should we head back to camp?”

Louis looked at the deer again. “Can we stay just a little while longer?”

Father’s eyes were kind. He remained kneeling. He wrapped an arm around Louis’ chest and pulled Louis to rest against him.

Louis watched the deer graze. It was tranquil and peaceful. The breeze was still nice.

Suddenly, there was a sound of metal clanging. The deer took off. In one fluid movement, Father jumped to his feet, drew his sword, and pushed Louis behind him.

Louis peeked around Father’s leg to see their small musketeer escort fighting men in black robes. The musketeers fought valiantly but there were only four of them and the men in black swarmed them. He squealed in fright when he saw the blood. He ducked back behind Father.

Father’s chest puffed out and he seemed to grow into a giant. “You dare attack your King!” he roared.

Louis saw the men circle around them. He blinked back tears. He clutched Father’s leg.

Father held his sword at the ready. “You will pay for this treason with your lives!”

They laughed. Louis was trembling. Why were they laughing? What was funny?

Father punched the first man to charge him in the face. He wasted no time running the man through. He brought his sword up to block a strike from the second. “Louis, run now!”

Louis hesitated. He couldn’t leave Father. He didn’t know how to get back to camp and the rest of the musketeers.

Father slit the second man’s belly. “Go!” he shouted.

Louis took off running without really picking a direction. He crawled between one of the men’s legs and ran as fast as he could. He heard heavy footsteps behind him and one of them grabbed him. He yelled and kicked. 

“Look what we have here, Majesty!”

Father saw him. All color drained from Father’s face and he immediately dropped his sword. “Your quarrel is with me. He is innocent. Please, don’t make him witness this.”

Louis continued to squirm but he couldn’t get free. The man holding him suddenly turned him from Father and buried his face in his chest. “Honoring a dying man’s last request,” the man whispered roughly.

The men smelled of sweat and wine. The material was coarse against his face. He almost felt like he was suffocating.

Louis jerked when he heard the shot. His shouts were muffled. “Father! Father, please!”

“It’s done. Be brave, lad,” the man whispered.

Louis went limp in the man’s arms. His eyes welled up and he let out hiccupping sobs.  
His heart pounded in his chest and he wanted to vomit.

They were busing congratulating themselves on their big payday when an otherworldly growl rent the air. The man set Louis down next to a tree and looked around. “Stay there.”

Louis wiped his nose and eyes with his sleeve. He looked around too. There was a charge in the air and the hairs on his arms stood on end. He saw Father’s body and shrank back against the tree.

There was another growl and one of them didn’t have a chance to move or speak before his throat was torn open in a spray of blood. The rest of them scrambled to defend themselves but they were picked off in quick succession and all in a shower of blood. They never got a blade near their attacker.

All Louis could see was a blur of movement. Growls and screams mingled together. He hugged his knees to his chest to make himself as small as possible and squeezed his eyes shut.

The last wail died away. Louis was trembling, rocking back and forth. He kept his eyes closed and the tears streamed down his face.

“Majesty,” a voice said softly.

Louis didn’t respond. 

“Majesty,” the voice said again. A large, calloused hand took his and squeezed. “Louis.”

The voice was familiar. Louis peeked to see the twisted, angry face and the bloodied fangs. He yelped and tried to scramble away.

A quiet curse and the hand grabbed his arm. “Louis, I’m sorry.”

Louis tried to curl into a ball. “Father,” he cried.

The demon pulled Louis into his arms and cradled him against his chest. “Majesty, it’s me.” 

Louis didn’t hear. His small fists pounded on the chest before him. He tried to kick to no avail.

“It’s your friend Treville. You can look now.”

Louis opened one eye. “Jean,” he said in a small voice.

Treville nodded encouragingly. His face was back to normal. “Yes, you’re safe now. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Louis’ bottom lip wobbled. “Father?”

“I tried but I didn’t get here in time.” Treville stood. His grip was secure around Louis. “I’ll get you back to camp and then I’ll come back for him.”

Louis threw his arms around Treville. He buried his face in Treville’s neck. He was so exhausted and overwrought, he passed out in Treville’s arms.

Louis blinked and the past fell away. He stood in the throne room with just Treville and Richelieu. He saw them watching him expectantly. He opened his mouth but words refused to come.

“Majesty?” Treville asked softly. He and Richelieu exchanged a quick look before he went on. “You’ve never had a problem with what I am.”

Louis’ mouth was dry. “You’ve…you’ve never turned anyone for as long as I’ve known you.”

Treville shrugged. “I didn’t have much choice. He would’ve died.”

“It’s still me, Sire,” Richelieu put in gently.

Louis stared at him for a long moment, studied his eyes. Suddenly, Louis grinned. “I know.” He threw his arms around Richelieu and let out a shuddering breath. “Thank God, you’ll never leave me.”


	2. “I’m sorry.” He turned and ran. “I’m so sorry.”

The night was clear and cool. The stars were bright. The smoke from the chimney smelled of roasted meat and wood.

Aramis was warm. His belly was full and he was content. He lay on a blanket with Marsac, a few inches apart. They were on the roof of a building owned by a friend of the musketeers.

Marsac had one arm behind his head. He took a drink from their bottle of wine and handed it to Aramis. “Well, we leave in two days. Have you ever been to Savoy?”

Aramis drank. The wine was sweet. “No.”

Marsac sighed, a little wistfully, and smiled. “The mountains are beautiful. I spent a lovely fortnight with a lad from there. It was before I joined the musketeers. I almost stayed with him. He had dark hair and dark eyes, my stallion.”

Aramis ignored the way his stomach clenched. He balanced the bottle on his chest. He rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to know.”

Marsac laughed, low and warm. “You’re no fun, Aramis.”

Aramis set the bottle to the side to play with his cross. “And you tempt God too much.” He turned on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. He regarded Marsac solemnly. “Sometimes, I truly fear for your soul.”

Marsac’s smile gentled. “There is no need to fear for me. I’ve made my peace with God.”

Aramis huffed. “It is one thing to have those urges. It is another to act on them.” He sighed heavily. “They are a test that you constantly fail.”

It was Marsac’s turn to roll his eyes. “I’m hardly what you could call promiscuous. I’m careful because there isn’t another choice.” He smirked and his eyes sparked. “You have more affairs than I do, mostly with married women. Why doesn’t your conscience act up then? There is a commandment about coveting thy neighbor’s wife.”

Aramis flushed. “I…” he groped for words but his usual excuses didn’t come out. He gripped his cross so tight the edges bit into his palm.

Marsac reached out to touch Aramis’ hand. He pried Aramis’ fingers from around the cross. His hand was warm around Aramis’. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he teased. 

Aramis flinched. “I….” Again, the words refused to come.

Marsac held Aramis’ gaze. “What are you trying to prove?” he asked curiously, no judgment in his tone.

Aramis dropped his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

One end of Marsac’s mouth quirked up. “Yes, you do.”

Aramis noticed Marsac’s thumb rubbing soft circles on his skin. He snatched his hand back and threw himself back down. “You’ve had too much wine,” he grumbled.

Marsac laughed. “I haven’t had enough. Pass me the bottle.”

Aramis grumbled some more under his breath and did so. He made sure their fingers didn’t brush. “I wish you would be serious.”

Marsac took another healthy swallow. He regarded Aramis for a long moment. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped. 

It was on the tip of Aramis’ tongue to ask what Marsac saw when he looked at him. Instead, he resolutely stared up at the stars. His fingers moved restlessly on the blanket next to him.

Marsac cleared his throat. He turned his attention back to the sky. He pointed. “There’s Leo.”

“Where?”

Marsac chuckled and kept pointing. “There.”

Aramis didn’t think before he moved closer so their shoulders were touching. He followed the direction of Marsac’s finger. “I see it now.”

“And there’s Cancer.”

Aramis rested his head against Marsac’s shoulder. “What about Orion?”

Marsac’s finger moved. “There.”

“Thanks.”

Marsac lowered his arm. His hand barely brushed against Aramis’. He immediately pulled away and folded his hands on his stomach.

Aramis tensed. “I’m sorry.”

Marsac suddenly sat up. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I forgot myself.”

Aramis followed. “Marsac--”

“Don’t,” Marsac interrupted. He didn’t meet Aramis’ gaze. “We should be heading back to the garrison.”

Aramis grabbed Marsac’s arm. “Please, I didn’t mean to…I don’t know.”

Marsac looked at Aramis’ hand and then his face. He cupped Aramis’ face. “Aramis, what are you trying to say?”

Aramis turned his face into Marsac’s touch. His eyes were wide and he made a bewildered sound. He covered Marsac’s hand with his own.

Marsac slowly leaned in and brushed his lips across Aramis’. It was a feather light touch. It was unbearably sweet.

Aramis gasped softly and Marsac’s tongue slid across his. He groaned and fisted Marsac’s doublet in his hands. He pressed closer to deepen the kiss.

Marsac threaded a hand through Aramis’ hair. He growled and licked Aramis’ lips. He leaned back, trying to pull Aramis with him.

Aramis groaned at the twinge when Marsac tugged on his hair. He looked down at Marsac, at his flushed face and wet lips. He wanted more. And it was wrong, so wrong. He scrambled to his feet as if he’d been burned. He was panting and wild eyed. “I’m sorry.” He turned and ran. “I’m so sorry.”

“Aramis, wait!”

Aramis fought awake. He was in his cot at the garrison. His heart pounded in his chest like he’d just been in battle. He was covered in sweat. He was half hard and he was disgusted with himself.

D’Artagnan’s voice came from just outside the door. “Have you noticed that the Captain’s been in a good mood since he came back?”

“Yeah,” Porthos agreed. He opened the door and stepped inside. He waited for d’Artagnan to join him and closed it. “Think about it. He doesn’t have to worry about his mate’s mortality anymore.”

D’Artagnan made a face. “I’d rather not think about it, but I guess you have a point.”

“The Captain’s one of the old ones. He’s lost a lot of people he’s loved.” Porthos smiled warmly. “This time he won’t have to.” He noticed Aramis. “And look who’s decided to rejoin us in the land of the living.”

D’Artagnan gave a cheeky grin. “We covered for you. We told Treville you were ill, not drunk.”

Porthos laughed. “I don’t know if he really believed us but he let it slide.”

Aramis just grunted in response.

Porthos’ amusement quickly evaporated. “What’s wrong?”

Aramis swung his legs over the side of the cot and sat on the edge. He bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Just a nightmare.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Aramis answered shortly. He grabbed his boots.

“Are you sure?” d’Artagnan prodded gently.

“Yes,” Aramis snapped. He stood and stomped to finish putting his boots on. He pulled on his jacket. Then he grabbed his sword belt and left without another word or glance. He slammed the door behind him.

Aramis kept his head down and hat covering his face as he crossed the practice yard. He wandered the streets of Paris, trying not to think. He didn’t want to think about Marsac or Treville and Richelieu.

Aramis lost track of time. He didn’t realize what he was doing when he set foot inside the tavern. He found the man he didn’t realize that he was looking for at a table in the corner. He dropped into the chair across from him.

The man was only a little older than Aramis. He had sharp blue eyes and dark blonde hair. He was dressed in the latest fashion. He looked on Aramis in open disdain. “What would a King’s musketeer want with me?”

Aramis’ throat was dry. Before he realized it, he was speaking. “I have some information of great interest to your master, the Duke of Aiguillon.”

The man arched an eyebrow. “What kind of information?”

“About our esteemed First Minister of France.” 

The man flicked a hand dismissively. “Don’t waste my time.”

Aramis licked his lips nervously. “It’s enough to bring him down.”

The man motioned to the bar for another bottle of wine. He sat back in his seat and stared at Aramis as if he could see right through him. “Very well. I’m listening.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song The Other Side by Evanescence


End file.
